


Glass shards in my lungs

by Elmnyx



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abused Harry Potter, Alternate Hogwarts House Sorting, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Bottom Harry, Broken Harry, Broken Harry Potter, Crazy Sirius Black, Eventual Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Everyone Has Issues, Evil Albus Dumbledore, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Good Salazar Slytherin, Good Slytherins, Good Tom Riddle, Harry Potter & Tom Riddle Attend Hogwarts Together, Harry Potter Has Nightmares, Harry Potter Has PTSD, Harry Potter Loves Tom Riddle, Harry Potter is Lord Peverell, Hogwarts, Horace Slughorn's Christmas Parties, In the Veil, Kinda, M/M, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Manipulative Tom Riddle, Meant To Be, Mpreg, Obsessive Tom Riddle, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possessive Tom Riddle, Quidditch, Quidditch Seeker Harry Potter, Sane Tom Riddle, Sirius Black Has Issues, Sirius Black Has Nightmares, Sirius Black Has PTSD, Sirius Black Lives, Slytherin Harry Potter, Slytherins Being Slytherins, St Mungo's Hospital, Teenage Tom Riddle, The Slug Club (Harry Potter), The Sorting Hat, Time Travelling Harry Potter, Tom Riddle Loves Harry Potter, Tom Riddle is His Own Warning, Tom Riddle is Not Voldemort, Tom Riddle is a Sweetheart, Top Tom Riddle, Veil of Death (Harry Potter), Young Gellert Grindelwald, Young Tom Riddle, everyones a little insane, gets a little dark, its a little bit gay, just a lil bit though, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:40:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29387853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elmnyx/pseuds/Elmnyx
Summary: As it turns out his soul had a lot more in common with mine then I realised, or maybe I did realise? Maybe I just chose not to see… it is not too hard when your eyes have been covered your entire life, to just leave the blindfold on, block out the world… I believe the reason to do so would stem much further than denial, much further than my physical being. However, that is rather frightening isn’t it? Just how far the cracks run, how easy it would be to break… for him to break me. Maybe that’s why I chose to leave the blindfold on, cause no matter what I chose to say to myself… I was as fragile as any other wizard… any other muggle… maybe even more so… and the more I tried to put myself back together, the more the fragments of my soul threatened to shatter, and Thomas Riddle? Well he just loved to break things… didn’t he.Harry's broken and perhaps so is Tom.Full and better description on first page/ I'm about to exceed the character limit.
Relationships: Abraxas Malfoy & Harry Potter, Abraxas Malfoy & Tom Riddle, Harry Potter & Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, OC/OC, Orion Black & Harry Potter, Sirius Black & Harry Potter
Comments: 10
Kudos: 37
Collections: Tom(Voldemort)/Harry





	1. It's the summary that I don't like and summarises practically nothing

As it turns out his soul had a lot more in common with mine then I realised, or maybe I did realise? Maybe I just chose not to see… it is not too hard when your eyes have been covered your entire life, to just leave the blindfold on, block out the world… I believe the reason to do so would stem much further than denial, much further than my physical being. However, that is rather frightening isn’t it? Just how far the cracks run, how easy it would be to break… for him to break me. Maybe that’s why I chose to leave the blindfold on, cause no matter what I chose to say to myself… I was as fragile as any other wizard… any other muggle… maybe even more so… and the more I tried to put myself back together, the more the fragments of my soul threatened to shatter, and Thomas Riddle? Well he just loved to break things… didn’t he.

When Harry Potter fell ever so further into the veil, he sucked in a breath so fresh in his lungs that it stung, a breath that had him questioning if he had ever truly breathed before and only after the figures that once stood before him, wands drawn and faces worn had faded away, did he release it… and realise that this had been his first breath of freedom… what he didn’t realise was it wouldn’t be the last.

Just another Harry and Tom fic of which Harry finds himself in nineteen forty-four, classmate to Tom Riddle, or perhaps more right… Right? Well the war, the lies, Harry is more broken then one might realise… and perhaps… just perhaps so is Tom… its weird love. Yet, if love is in the air… does that mean it’s just as polluted… perhaps even toxic? That would explain why Tom chose to hold his breath for so long… and why Harry could not breath at all… no matter how much he tried… it would explain why breathing, was so much harder than it sounds.

I absolutely hate writing summaries, especially for this story... believe me there's going to be a lot to unpack here and this summary really ain't efficient enough for that.

This is going to be a long novel length fic by the time I'm done with it - I hope to publish chapters each week, though this will vary dependant on my work load. 

chapters will be long cause short chapters annoy me, annoy you - and a chapter = a chapter... not a paragraph.

and yes I know there's a note section... but no one reads them - so I put it here instead, deal with it.

I promise the writer isn't a dick and just gets moody at 4am.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first half of Harry first settling in to 1940 (basically the boring bit before we get to the real plot). Sorry, this will be one of the shortest of my chapters at 3,442 words, around 3,000 words shorter then my other chapters that I still need to edit - but despite this, I hope you enjoy:  
> He was cold… he was so cold it hurt. Each breath stung like someone took a thousand needles to his lungs… each twitch of his muscles seared through his body as if setting him on fire… cold merciless fire… but that wasn’t even what hurt the most… no the cold soaked further then his physical body… further then his skin, his bones, his heart… further then the blood in his veins … as if it was trying to claw it’s way through his flesh, his magic, to the very core of his entire being.  
> He didn't understand when it had all gone wrong, he didn't understand what changed... what had changed in the prophecy... yet it didn't matter anymore - because Harry was gone.

‘Listen you insolent child’ the man hissed lowly.

‘the one with power to vanquish the dark load approaches…’ the man continued in a quiet whisper, as if he were afraid of someone over hearing, dark eyes moving around the empty chamber quickly under his knotted hair of which was slick with both sweat and blood.

‘and the dark lord will mark him as his equal – ‘he continued grasping smaller and smooth hands of another with his rough and bloodied own.

  
‘but he will have power the dark lord knows not… for neither can live while the other survives, I know Remy, that doesn’t explain why the aurors –‘ a younger voice cut in, his words spilling out quickly, wobbled with worry and desperate with impatience.

  
‘No Harry, for neither can live while the other survives’ The man repeated back.

  
‘Moony your making no sense, you’ve lost too much blood, we need to –‘ the boy… Harry, shot back, wrenching his hands free in an attempt to instead push down on one of many wounds that littered the older man, watching with wide green eyes as the dark blood only spilled through his fingers to join the river pouring onto the cold stone floor.

  
‘Harry, no… while the other survives, they think – ‘Remus attempted to continue before his words were cut short by a coughing fit making him bring his hands to grasp at his chest.

  
‘Remus –‘ the boy croaked biting down on his bottom lip as a few stray and panicked tears falling to join the bloodied mess at his knees - as he shook his head and quickly removed the pressure he had been applying to Remus’ wounds in order to tear off a piece of robe, already cacked with dry blood, and return it to where he had originally been pressing.

  
‘Harry – ‘Remus breathed as the boy pushed down harder, shaking his head which only led to more of his tears joining the red blood he was kneeled in.

  
‘no… no…’ the boy sniffed as the blood did not slow, more and more coating his hands and clothes as it poured out of the open gaping wounds on Remus’ stomach, the banging on a large oak door echoed through the large stone room, it’s only light coming from a tear in what seemed to be all space and time, but the boy seemed content to ignore that noise in favour of pressing harder as his breaths began to become quicker.

  
‘stop harry… stop’ Remus said quietly as he moved to remove the boys shaking hands from his stomach.

  
‘No Remus, I need to… I need’ he sniffed.

  
‘It’s too late for me’ Remus said calmly as Harry began to curl into himself hyperventilating.

  
‘It’s too late…’

  
________________________________

What was that noise? The one echoing through his ear… the one hammering at his head? It hurt… it really fucking hurt.

Harry groaned aware of the condition of his body from the briefest feeling of consciousness… wait… consciousness, shouldn’t he be dead? He had been hit with the killing curse hadn’t he? If he was alive that meant… well he did not really know what that meant. Especially not after… after what had happened before.

  
No everyone who cared about him where dead… dead or in Azkaban … so there should not have been anyone to save him anymore… at least not anyone who wanted to.

  
Which meant even if he had somehow miraculously survived, someone should not be trying to nurse him back to health - Yet he still heard the bustle of people… words like doctor and nurse leaking through to his semi-conscious state… groans of people in pain. Not to mention a pillow under his head that even in its stiff state indicated a bed, and all that led him to the conclusion of a hospital, he was in a hospital – but why, how? It made no sense.

  
Opening his eyes, he was assaulted by light that sent a sharp stab right through his brain causing him to slam them back shut with a groan, the hard bed underneath him gave a series of creaks as he writhed in the aftermath of the pain, which only worked to irritate his aching head more.

  
‘sir?’ he heard a voice inquire, rather soft and feminine, obviously a woman – but he did not recognise it, not in the slightest.

  
‘sir can you open your eyes for me?’ he groaned again involuntarily at the mere prospect, but complied none the less a few moments later, even if it was more cautiously and slowly than before.

Opening his eyes for the second time proved to be less painful then the first, his head ached, and he swore he should not be able to smell sound, but it didn’t hurt as bad, not as bad as he had braced himself for. He blinked his eyes slowly in order to allow them to adjust, and through hooded eyes he began to identify shapes, shapes that slowly began turning from blurry figures into something more defined - until through his black eyelashes he began to recognise what seemed to be a warehouse ceiling, with metal bars and industrial lights weaving themselves a metal jungle miles above his head.

  
Yet, when harry attempted to croak out the question on his whereabouts, his dry throat made itself painfully obvious leading to more of a choked cough than anything else. Luckily for him he did not have to wait long until a hand cupped his cheek and began pouring cool water into his dry mouth and down his constricted throat offering some semblance of relief to his aching body.

  
‘who…’ he croaked out, when the glass began to move away from his lips allowing him to see a blonde haired women in an nurses costume he recognised from old history textbooks he had seen when he attended primary school all those years ago.

  
The blue eyed women did not falter at his apparent confusion however, moving around to prod at his ribs, drawing him to suck in a breath that did absolutely nothing to ease the pain that washed over him.

  
‘your ribs are healing nicely, just a few breaks, can you tell me your name?’ she asked her voice as smooth and even as she began looking through documents that had been next to his bed.

  
‘my name?’ he only managed to respond, still utterly frazzled by the entire situation.

  
‘yes, your name, you do have one no?’ she asked the briefest hint amusement in her voice.

  
‘uh yeah… Harry’

  
‘Harry…’

  
‘Potter, my names Harry Potter’

  
‘Well Mr potter’ she said undeterred, we found you in the aftermath of a German plane assault, just near Watford way, it appears you got hit by rubble, broke a couple ribs’ she said as if it was common occurrence, coming closer in order to shine a torch in his eyes.

  
Didn’t they have smaller ones for checking for concussions? Ones that were not intent on burning off his retina’s.

  
‘I just need to ask a couple questions to make sure you don’t have a concussion then I can release you alright lad?’ she asked moving away from him as he rubbed his eyes.

  
‘Yeah… uh… ask away’

  
‘age?’

  
‘uh, sixteen’

  
‘bit short for a sixteen years old, damn war rations hardly fit the needs of growing kids nowadays’ he heard her mutter. War? last he checked there was not a muggle war and he highly doubted this woman before him was a wizard.

  
‘what colour is this?’ she asked holding up a card.

  
‘red’

  
She nodded ‘what year is it?’

  
‘1996’

  
Her head whipped up to show him an inquiring eyebrow as she snorted.

  
‘and I’m Winston Churchill, come on Lad just tell me the year so I can release you and help someone else’

  
What? It was 1996, that he was certain of… wasn’t it? Then again her language, the outfit, Harry allowed him to look around into the sea of beds surrounding him, people with missing limbs and children choking up blood… the doctors, nurses… it was, well it was all just so wrong – out of place, but –

  
His attention was drawn back to the women as she cleared her throat eyes expectant.

  
‘1940?’ He said confused.

  
‘1944 I think you mean’ she asked eyebrows still raised.

  
‘uh yeah, sorry, was just uh, what’s the full date sorry? He asked wrinkling his brow.

  
‘September 14th, 1944, you were out for two days, your parents must be worried sick’

  
Harry did not respond to that, just let his lips part and eyes dart around, just as confused if not more so then when had awoken.  
_________________________________

Now, clad in old muggle clothes, a brown worn cloak, waistcoat and fingerless gloves – an slightly too large outfit a lad had apparently died in hours prior, and an old shepherds hat, Harry wandered the streets of London, his ribs aching and his head hammering as he chewed on his bottom lip lost in thought.

  
The veil, it had to be, Harry thought, eyes darting up to yet another news stand, the Daily Times Newspaper standing tall, the date in bold… nineteen forty fucking four - he had travelled fifty odd years back in time into world war fucking two, for fucks sake.

  
No, it only made sense if it where the veil… perhaps he fell through it here, before Dumbledores spell had a chance to get to his core and snuff it out? It was the only thing that made sense, his broken ribs from ‘debris’ that hit his back, the veil had ended up saving his life – it’s purpose had in no way been identified and perhaps it was just that, a time travelling wormhole?

  
Harry sucked on his teeth in annoyance as his green eyes rose to meet an inconspicuous bright red telephone box, the one he hoped would have been invented by now, or rather he hoped the wizards would have modified by now.

  
He huffed worriedly at the prospect of them not and its possible consequence’s before stepping inside and bringing the black phone to his ear… ‘take me to the ministry of magic’ he breathed and after a few heart wrenching seconds he felt his vision go black as his body was pulled through what seemed to be a thin tube dropping down and down and down, his stomach began to twist and ribs ache even more as the tube constricted tighter, before finally he dropped down into a bathroom stall.

  
Harry breathed in shakily as he rubbed his side a hiss escaping his lips at each stab of pain they gave. 

He allowed himself to stand like that, partly knelt over the toilet chest heaving as the pain dulled away for a few more minutes, before he straightened out and took some deep breaths to will away any lingering aches.

  
Pulling the toilet door open Harry was met with the hustle and bustle of the ministry opening, people rushing around to get from one destination to the other, angry citizens and stressed workers all under the same large clock that appeared to be more of a warning then a convenience to these people.

  
He quickly slipped between the masses to get to the elevator he had spotted in his once over of the room, and made it just as the doors where closing, managing to slip through the gap barely and stand next to the only other occupant, a blonde haired women with her nose in the air that gave both Harry and his worn clothes a quick once over before grimacing in contempt and attempting to inconspicuously shuffle further away.

Consequently by the time they reached the floor labelled ‘inheritance and infancy documentation’, the women had managed to push herself and her silk robes so far into the metal corner, that he was certain she was trying to phase through.

  
He rolled his green eyes slightly as he stepped out onto a worn planked floor and ignored the sigh of relief, he heard behind him, as the elevator doors closed.

The room he had found himself in was large and somehow in the same sense stuffy – metal filling cabinets covered the walls and appeared both battered and rusted, the floors where creaky and gave way to each movement of his muscles which filled the white noise along with the sound of a quill scratching at paper.

  
A woman sat upon a scratched wooden desk surrounded by towers of files, her greying brown hair spilling down in front of her face as she hunched over a piece of paper almost religiously.

She seemed intent to ignore Harry as he made his way closer, the floorboards giving a painfully load creak each step and even upon arriving before her desk the women gave no indication that she even registered his presence.

  
He worried his bottom lip a few seconds longer stood in front of the women and her paper throne before he made up his mind and cleared his throat, the response was immediate as the scratching that once dominated the air was silenced, the only sound coming from the floorboards as Harry shifted his weight anxiously.

  
A few seconds later the quill was placed gently back into the ink altogether as the women lifted her chin and straightened her back, the clicking of each vertebrae of her spine echoing in the thick silence between them. Her cold brown eyes rose from her inkpot, as she removed her hand from her quill, to settle on him a bushy eyebrow raised.

  
‘may I help you’ she asked, her top lip drawing up in disgust to reveal yellow and black pointed teeth as she tsked in obvious dissatisfaction.

  
‘uh yeah… I’m after an inheritance test’ he said, any edge of uneasiness in his voice quickly smoothed over to put on an unbothered façade.

  
He was only met with silence as the women stared him down tapping her fingers across the worn oak of her desk… a beat… then another… almost in time to the small ticks of the clock on her desk, before her hands wrapped around it and pushed her old creaky wooden chair back with a rather ear throbbing screech, that only worked to feed his dull headache.

  
The next thing he knew was that the women had moved around her desk with an unnatural amount of speed for someone who could only be likened to a skeleton wearing skin, drawn a metal pin, grasped his left hand in unnecessary tightness and pierced his skin with it, smearing the resulting blood onto a piece of parchment.

  
He brought said finger to his lips with a slight surprised hiss to suck on it as the blood began creating a small stream down his hand.

He then proceeded to half-heartedly glare at the women who seemed content to ignore him in order to continue smearing his blood with her finger into an odd curved shape he recognised as the rune meaning parent, before she placed it upon a ritual circle on the floor that had been hidden behind her large desk before.

  
Her dead brown eyes then rose up to meet his before they moved to the spot next to her in a non-verbal command, of which Harry was quick to oblige, getting down onto his knees before the carved rune circle and paper inside it, much like how she placed herself opposite him.

  
‘repeat after me’ she said with a grumble placing her wrinkled hands at the edge of the circle, Harry quickly repeating her movement.

  
‘Merlinus ego dabo vobis in sanguine meo’ she began eyes narrowing in concentration.

  
‘Merlinus ego dabo vobis in sanguine meo’ he repeated, carefully and clearly, still slightly surprised on how little time it had taken for them to have already gotten to this stage – he guessed the usual pleasantries must have taken more time then realised in his usual day to day conversations.

  
‘core meum ipso identitatem’ she continued.

  
‘core meum ipso identitatem’ he repeated watching as his blood began to stem from the drawn symbol in a spiral moving outwards.

  
‘quod per identitatem alii nexus’

  
‘quod per identitatem alii nexus’ he repeated once again, utterly transfixed as his blood began seeping into the carvings on the floor.

  
‘Nexus eorum ostende mihi’ she finished eyes boring into his green ones.

  
‘Nexus eorum ostende mihi’ he repeated for the last time watching as his blood lit up in flames burning the paper to ashes, the last piece floating up in the air and bursting into even brighter flames then those previous, an origami bird taking its place.

He rose his hand to catch it as it flew down to meet him. Grasped tightly in his hands he unwrapped the folds carefully in order not the rip the marksmanship and unveiled a form.  
‘Birth Certificate’

  
It stated in bold cursive letters yet where he guessed there should be a name the parchment only contained a dotted line, underneath of which stated he was the eligible heir to the wealth of the Peverell Family and all pertaining assets, upon the death of the Lord and Lady Peverell, of which where both crossed out in red.

  
‘what does this mean’ he asked glancing back to the Lady before him, who was now watching him with narrowed eyes.

  
‘the red line means that both the Lord and Lady Peverell are deceased, entitling you to the wealth and assets of the family as well as the lordship… as for the dotted line, well that’s where your name must go… whatever that name may be’ she continued her voice taking a strange tune.

  
‘uh so a name of my choosing?’ he asked.

  
‘well I guess so, although these forms… have always been filled in at birth automatically, filling these cabinets as soon as a magical infants name is uttered by their parents… ‘ she said trailing off, her eyes sharp in curiosity a slight malicious smirk curving its way onto her lips.

  
‘pardon’ he asked audibly swallowing his mouth dry.

  
‘the only way this would make sense, is if… you just appeared out of thin air’ she said tilting her head in a way that only worked to make his skin crawl.

  
‘so… that leads the question of where exactly…’  
‘obliviate’ Harry all but yelped as he saw her hands and unnaturally long talons creep closer to him, as if ready to pounce.

  
Watching with grim relief as she slumped to the floor, he let out a shaky breath eyes moving quickly around the room in thought, cause shit, this was bad.

  
She had said as soon as the name was uttered the child was registered so surely if he just…  
Leaping up off the floor and tucking his wand away, he quickly grasped the quill above him on the desk, spilling ink droplets upon the creepy hags work in his haste. He then proceeded to scribble Hadrian James Ignotus Atlan Peverell onto the dotted line.

Hadrian as he was certain it wasn’t for a few decades yet until people began adapting it to Harry, Ignotus because it would help prevent suspicion and Atlan because… well he had picked up the name a while back from the History of magic textbooks him and Ron had been doodling in as Binns droned on, it was an old wizards name meaning red dawn or new beginning or something if he remembered correctly, it had floated through his brain as his hand made work of its task and before he knew it he had written it upon the parchment as well.

  
And just in time, he thought, practically throwing the quill back into the ink pot as the women began to twitch.

He quickly crossed the threshold - the floor creaking under him as he walked, checking to make sure he did not drop any blood before from when his finger was bleeding. Satisfied, he spammed the elevator button until the doors opened for him – looking back upon the women, he had just enough time to see her begin to sit up holding her head as the elevator doors slid shut.

  
Still shaking Harry moved back in the elevator to rest his head against the cool metal, heart pounding. Willing his breathing to slow, he glanced upon the document and where there was once a scribbled and smudged name was golden cursive - indicating to him that from this point on he existed in this world, this new and crazy world that as far as he was concerned, was where he would live out of the rest of his damned life.

  
‘fuck’ he breathed, as he rubbed at his sore ribs

  
‘what do I do now?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the wait! I was called in to substitute for an ill colleague for work and had to finish some assignments for college as well.  
> This chapter is brief at 3,442 words- around 3,000 words shorter then the average amongst my unedited chapters so far, so I apologise for that - I am aiming to finish editing the second half of the 'Harry settling in to 1940' kind of chapters, before we get into the real plot, by Wednesday/Thursday, as I luckily have some more free time to edit.  
> Feel free to leave a comment down below with any thoughts so far, any feedbacks always appreciated!


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now this is out of the way we can finally start getting to the plot hehehe.  
> 4,700 words.  
> Harry hurt all over, but when had he ever not? He'd been battered and bruised since he was a child, but unlike most children it hadn't been his fault.  
> I'm not really sure if I love or hate this chapter so I'll just refer to it as meh.  
> Next update will probably not be here until friday earliest and sunday Latest, sorry guys.

He was cold… he was so cold it hurt. Each breath stung like someone took a thousand needles to his lungs… each twitch of his muscles seared through his body as if setting him on fire… cold merciless fire… but that wasn’t even what hurt the most… no the cold soaked further then his physical body… further then his skin, his bones, his heart… further then the blood in his veins … as if it was trying to claw it’s way through his flesh, his magic, to the very core of his entire being.

Avada Kadavra… that was the words he uttered wasn’t it? He had said it so quietly, so softly – as if it would change the castors intentions to something justified… an act of kindness? Harry would laugh at the thought – that is, if he were not currently being torn apart piece by piece.

He had felt it before it hit him… Dumbledores words had carried themselves through the air like a knife on skin, it had echoed through the room and tickled his ears, and caused each and every hair on his arms to simultaneously stand on end. His spine had tingled with the sensation of something crawling, up and up, a million feathery light steps… he could almost hear it, the sound of squelching as a million limbs moved at once, as they explored the path of which his spine led, as they ventured on an journey around his throat… a journey across his face and into his ink black hair - the same hair he had weaved his slender fingers through in despair not more than a few minutes ago, as he cried knelt in the blood of the mangled corpse before him.

He had heard the door fall open, the noise of its impact had echoed through the cold stone room and drowned out his sobs – yet he didn’t move, for where was there left for him to hide? Where was there left to run? Who was there left for him to want to? He had heard a set of footsteps grow louder as the echo of the door faded away; the sound bouncing around like a rubber ball aimed at his head. He had heard that voice… quite… cold.

‘this is the way it had to be my boy’ it said calmly as the footsteps ceased behind him.

He had just enough time to turn his wet and unnaturally green eyes towards the growing light, before he became engulfed in flames. The right of his back erupted in excruciating pain first, before it quickly spread like hellfire across every nerve in his body - yet where he had expected to burn, his body froze, the icy breath of death coursing through his veins and seizing up his muscles one by one – he took a sharp breath in agony, which only worked against him as the air became so cold that it stabbed at his lungs, a million little needles intent on tearing their way out of his body.

He was briefly aware of an arm outstretched, limbs sprawled mid-air… the heels of his feet dragging on the floor as he unintentionally turned from the impact of the spell to face Dumbledore fully, to face the man he had once looked up to, with such admiration… such trust, but the figure that stood before him now… the one with angry lines around his wiry brows wasn’t that man, he couldn’t be that same man… not the one who had once stood before him in his first school feast with happy lines marring the skin around his mouth… those dead and dark eyes could not be the same bright blue ones that had held such affection when he won his first quidditch match… no this could not be the same Dumbledore that had given him his first Christmas present.

Or perhaps it was, Harry thought, looking upon the picture before him with a newfound light. Looking upon the stone floors pooled with blood, the same blood that plastered the corpse sprawled by Dumbledores feet, the same blood that mattered Harry’s hair, the corpse whose face was now as sullen as Dumbledores own, eyes just as glassy… no this man who looked more like a dementor then a man - his past student and the last of Harry’s newfound family, littered at his feet as if nothing more then garbage - was indeed the same man who had promised to protect him – who had promised to protect Hermione, Ron… his father and godfather and mother and uncle… back when they all took their first steps into Hogwarts. Perhaps this had always been his Dumbledore, the same one that left him to be abused throughout his childhood, the one that allowed him to return to a life of starvation in a cramped cupboard under the stairs each year… the one that let his Godfather rot in Azkaban without a trial… the one that led students to be watchful each second of the day for whatever danger lurked in the corridors.

No he could see it now – he could see that all along Dumbledores throne had been one cloaked in darkness, one placed upon the rotting corpses of those that had given him their trust… their hope, he could see their hollow eyes staring into his very soul, as he flew through the air. And in their eyes he saw their stories, his story, he saw it all, every breath he had taken, every step he had walked, it was laid in front of him like a gruesome story - each page as twisted as the last under the manipulations of the author – he could hear every word he had ever spoken, every laugh he had ever heard, every scream, every breath, whisper and step – he could hear it all, the turning of pages in his textbooks, the sound of chalk on a chalkboard, potions as they sizzled. He could feel his eyes widen as the images flew through his brain at once, as the sounds mashed together in his ears, as every spice laced his tongue along with the taste of blood, had he bit his tongue? It hardly mattered, he was overcome with each feeling and sense he had ever experienced, even the ones he had hardly noticed. It was overwhelming, he just wanted to escape, escape it all - the pain, the sound, it was too much – too much.

He was briefly aware of screams tearing their way through his throat… but it didn’t matter… nothing mattered… his life flashed before his eyes in a mantra of images, of corpses… and no matter how loud his screams became… how much they tore through his throat… no one could hear him could they? They were all gone… everything was gone… everything… everything.

He was gone.

And when the final page of his story ended, Harry released a shaky breath, the same breath that had once threatened to shatter him with each beat of his heart… a breath he had saw, only as pain, and had somehow evolved into one of complete euphoria, freedom… the last breath he had ever taken. His heart had too ceased hammering at his ribs long ago. He was briefly aware that he had lost feeling in it all… in his arms… his legs… his toes… his fingertips… he couldn’t move – yet, where he should be frightened… where he should feel trapped, Harry only felt free, more free then he had ever before.

The last Harry saw of Dumbledores figure was him stood alone in that cold stone room of which he had lost Sirius to a year previous, of which he had lost Remus to minutes prior, the room of which Ron and Hermione had died protecting, of which Harry was so far away from now… the room Dumbledore stood in still, fading away under a cloak of darkness in an ever growing white tunnel.

It was then, Harry realised, that the curse had thrown him into the veil… the same veil that had robbed him of his Godfather back when Harry still believed in black and white, back when things where simpler and the light stood united.

And how pretty it was. The veil - Harry thought - only now noticing the birds that floated through alongside him, through the white sky with their wings spread wide, their golden feathers moving like grass in a field… were they in a cloud? It would explain why he felt so comfy… so warm.

Yet as fate had it, the euphoria he felt didn’t last… for where he had been flying he was now falling, falling fast, his stomach fluttered as his nerves spiked back to life, his lungs took in a stuttering breath as he fell further into the darkness before he slammed back into himself and awoke panting in a cold room, under blankets to thick, too constricting – his hands shook as he ripped himself free, his knee’s tucked into himself as he curled into a ball, shaking hands moving to his aching chest, his lungs ached as he took in sharp and shallow breaths, half sobs that provided him with little oxygen – so fast that his still broken ribs began to burn, a reminder of his broken body – the body _he_ had broken… Dumbledore.

Harry didn’t manage to calm his breathing for several excruciatingly long minutes - and even when he did, he sat there in the cold dark master bedroom of Peverell manor, sobbing to himself, so cold that his hands shook even after his heart had calmed - yet he did not seek refuge under the covers. He refused to. No, he sat there in the darkness instead, shaking like a leaf in autumn, to stubborn to fall, but bound to.

It wasn’t until the tell-tale sounds of chirping birds and beams of sunlight attempted to break through his blinds, that Harry allowed himself to move – he had long since stopped sobbing, choosing to sit in darkness clenching and un-clenching his jaw instead, his mind away in some far off land.

He shook his head first in an attempt to shake away the darkness he had found his mind retreat to, before dragging his now ashen white and frozen feet over the side of the bed to stand on the old patterned rug underneath it. He pulled on the clothes he had secured himself after visiting Gringotts the night before, his ribs aching as he maneuvered himself into a black knitted Jumper and robe, stabbing as he bent his spine to slip on his equally dark trousers, leading a hiss of pain to unwillingly leave his mouth through clenched teeth.

‘Mopsy’ he called out, rubbing his ribs – flinching slightly as the house elf audibly popped in front of him.

‘Mopsy very happy to have Master Hadrian call her name, what is it Mopsy can do for master’ she squeaked, a bounding ball of energy awaiting her first real command in years.

‘I need to go out, clean the house while I’m gone and purchase some food’ he commanded voice still slightly breathy in pain.

‘Of course, Mopsy will do as Master Hadrian want, Mopsy happy to help Master, Mopsy shall begin now’ the elf babbled on, holding the hem of her waistcoat, before popping away again, leaving Harry in his pain.

A wince made its way across his face as he straightened from the slightly hunched posture he had adopted as he spoke to Mopsy - in order to begin the trek to the fireplace in the living room and consequently floo to St Mungo’s and get a hold of some form of numbing potion – hell at this point he didn’t care if they held him down, cut him open and removed the blasted ribs from his chest as he watched.

Clinging to the staircase, Harry looked down nauseated by the sight, the Peverell manor was big, the ceiling’s high – which just meant that he had triple the amount of stairs necessary in any house in order to make it down to his destination.

It had become painfully aware upon his first arrival to the manor yesterday, that adrenaline had been the only thing that kept him from doubling over and dying on a random fucking street corner - and now that it had faded completely? Well it was already taking all the effort in him not to puke over the house’s ancestral interior.

He was shaking by the time he made it into the living room - he had broken a sweat walking downstairs for fucks sake. He groaned pressing his spinning head to the cool white marble of the fireplace and put all his effort in staying standing as his ribs stabbed at him once more, a reminder of his circumstances of arrival, circumstances that he rather not recall at merlin knows what time in the morning.

He huffed once more, clenching his eyes before pushing himself off of the marble and grabbing the floo powder upon the mantle next to a small broken clock. He allowed himself a second to centre his balance before flinging the floo powder in front of him, watching satisfied as green flames roared to life.

‘St Mungo’s hospital’ he breathed, practically falling into the fire and grimacing as he felt his world become tighter, his bones pushed inwards, and air sucked out of him. He barely caught himself as he came out the other side, clinging onto the first thing he saw – of which was luckily the help desk. He bit down a groan as amber eyes rose to meet his.

‘welcome to St Mungo’s Hospital Sir please may you inform me of your name and reason of visit’ she said, voice wavering slightly as he slumped further upon the wooden surface in front of her.

‘Lord Hadrian Peverell...’ he hissed sucking in another breath ‘broken ribs’ he continued after a second.

He flinched slightly as he felt the strong hands of a stranger, head whipping round to a wide eyed male healer, by the look of him.

‘It’s okay Liv, I’ll take him’ the man said sliding an arm around his waist and manoeuvring Harry’s arm around his shoulder in order to guide him down the hall, a rather impressive feat considering Harry’s shorter stature.

He wasn’t sure how long exactly they where walking as his vision spun - but as he was laid down onto a sturdy bed he couldn’t find it in him to care, he groaned as he curled into himself slightly, his fist wrapping into a tight ball.

‘Well Lord Peverell I’m Healer Jones and it appears you’ve got yourself in quite the pickle here, mind to tell me how it happened?’ the man ,Jones, said softly - bowing down onto one knee in order to meet Harry’s eyes with his warm brown ones, a reassuring smile carving it’s way onto his caramel cheeks.

Harry tilted his head, lifting his chin order to meet the man’s gaze head on and for a few contemplative seconds they stayed in silence, Jones tilting his head as he stared into his hazy green eyes patiently awaiting Harry’s answer.

‘fell off my broom’ Harry mumbled moving his head back down chin meeting his chest as he wrapped his hand around his side another hiss escaping his lips.

‘ah a quidditch accident I’m guessing then’ Jones said standing back up a hint of amusement in his voice – Harry only groaned in response leading a laugh to be drawn out of the Healers mouth.

‘well Lord Peverell-‘he began moving in order to grab his stethoscope on the side.

‘Hadrian… call me Hadrian’ Harry said quietly, he had never been one to find anything more than exasperation from titles and if he was perfectly honest the term ‘lord Peverell’ was only working to grate on his nerves.

‘Hadrian’ the man said nodding ‘I’m going to have to sit you up –‘ Harry groaned again leading to another laugh to bubble out of the Healers mouth.

‘Yes I know, not the news you really want when your curled up in pain… come on slowly’ Jones said, wrapping an arm around his chest lightly careful not to push down on his ribs as he helped pull Harry into sitting, allowing him to rest his head on his shoulder for a few seconds as he caught his breath.

‘okay Hadrian I am going to pull up your jumper and check on the damage okay? Can you slip of your robe’ Harry nodded slightly, head still woozy as he slowly allowed his robe to fall onto the bed below him, the healers cold stethoscope leading him to yelp in surprise and ultimately clench his eyes in pain as the jolt caused him to jostle his ribs once again.

‘apologies, I should have given you a warning the healer said apologetically as he moved the stethoscope across his chest, nodding to himself.

‘Okay Hadrian, I’m going to need to press down now to feel for how the ribs are coming along in their healing before I can do anything to help you so you might want to hold onto your robe because this is going to hurt quite the bit’ he continued voice soft and calm – Harry let out a shaky breath before wrapping his fingers around the soft cotton of his robes and nodding, hissing as the healer prodded at his ribs.

‘Okay Hadrian, your doing really good okay’ the man said, something he couldn’t be asked to find patronising in his current state, only content as staying still as Jones helped him lay back down on the bed.

‘alright, Hadrian you still with me?’

‘yeah’ Harry all but rasped out.

‘okay, can you tell me your date of birth’ Jones asked softly pulling a chair next to where Harry laid in order not tower over him.

‘July 31st, 1928’

‘your sixteen?’ the healer asked sounding a little alarmed, something that only drew a hum out of agreement out of him.

‘I’m guessing from your lordship title that you may be living alone, but do you have any relatives or friends or…’ the healer asked sounding more concerned than before.

‘no’ Harry choked out before attempting to curl up even more as his ribs stabbed at him.

‘okay Hadrian… alright, I’m going to flat out with you here because honestly your ribs are fucked -alright’ he said, causing Harry to let out a little snort.

‘but, it appears you waited quite some time to get here which makes things a little more complicated; one weakness of how quick it takes wizards to heal is just this - your ribs have fused wrong, they’re… well they’re digging into your skin and lungs, tearing up the muscle surrounding them as they do. Which explains your shortness of breath and elevated heart rate and the bruising on your chest… which means I have only one option to have to reset them before they do any permanent damage, okay? So, I’m going to go get a colleague alright, to keep you distracted…’ Jones continued making sure his words sunk in before he left the room, leaving Harry in painful silence, his wheezing being the only thing keeping him somewhat sane, alone in this unfamiliar room.

It did not take long for Healer Jones to return, Harry guessed it wasn’t great practice to leave patients to writhe in pain for very long, but he was impressed by the Healers speed none the less.

‘Hadrian, this is healer Hayle she’s going to talk to you as I cast the bone breaking spell okay?‘ Blue eyes met his and Harry took in the second Healers appearance, she had the same reassuring smile as Jones, but her skin was freckled and pale, her hair in a white bob dyed a weak pink at the ends, where Jones' was a dark tightly curled brown.

‘hey, Hadrian – you can call me Althea alright’ The women said softly crouching down to eye level like he was some wounded deer on the side of the road.

He only hummed in response, briefly aware of Healer Jones casting a numbing spell.

‘Okay Hadrian I’ve applied what numbing spells I can, but I’m afraid this is still going to hurt like hell, so just concentrate on Althea if you can, alright?’ Healer Jones said, watching him carefully and nodding at Althea.

‘You know your remind me of my brother, always getting into quidditch accidents – kind of funny really, how he spends more time on a stretcher then a broom’ Althea said, wide grin on her face – and if Harry was completely honest it was calming him, hearing her talk about her life – that was until the crack resonated through the room followed by a cry of pain and wheezing breath from him as his chest seemingly collapsed into itself.

‘It’s alright Hadrian, they’re broken now, it’s okay – Jones is just going to fuse your bones now alright? I know it aches, but just hang in there okay?’ Althea a hand brushing through his thick midnight black curls like he was some child that needed petting in order to calm down, no the way his breathing evened out was completely on it’s own accord, thank you very much.

Althea was correct about the pain however, whatever numbing spell Jones had used was working wonders now that the worst was gone.

‘All done’ Jones said a smile on his face.

‘See I told you’ Althea continued with a matching smile of her own as she stood.

‘you okay to sit up Hadrian or do you want a few more seconds?’ Jones asked dismissing Althea from their company with a grateful nod.

'bye Hadrian, you get better soon' the healer in question said softly as she let herself out before he could thank her.

‘I’m okay’ Harry responded after a few seconds, still accepting Jones’ helping hands in sitting him back up.

‘See I bet that feels better right?’

‘yeah uh thanks’ Harry replied awkwardly.

‘Your very welcome lad, now your chest is going to ache for a couple of days as the muscle heals but it should be a lot less painful then before, some bruising will be expected and I’m going to prescribe you some numbing draughts for the pain, but no more then two a day okay? And definitely don’t take them more then two hours apart or you may build up an addiction and that’s the last thing we want – you got that?’

Harry hummed a small smile on his face to show his gratitude.

‘I’m also going to prescribe you a Pondus potion’ Jones continues his voice becoming slow, careful.

‘a what? What’s that for’

‘It’s a weight gaining potion’

‘I don’t need a weight gaining potion’ Harry stated with a nervous chuckle as his brows came together.

‘there’s no need to feel ashamed Hadrian, your body is extremely fit, much more so then your average teenager, hell I don’t even have a six pack – but where there isn’t muscle there’s… well there’s not a lot there – I mean I could tell your ribs where fucked with just a glance. There’s no shame in a little bit of weight Hadrian, it’s actually very beneficial in the long run’ The healer said softly, brown eyes boring into his own.

‘I haven’t been starving myself –‘ _he_ hadn’t.

‘You misunderstand, I’m merely suggesting that you have missed one too many meals – not on your own accord’ The healer interjected, stressing the last sentence.

‘I understand that food probably isn’t that high up on your list vs the many other things that you could be doing, that’s okay – I just feel that you need a little boost to your nutritional intake so I’m going to recommend one after each meal for a week, okay?’

Harry merely nodded his lips in a thin line – his body really was fucked wasn’t it? Scattered with reminders… no, harry did not need to think about those kinds of things, not right now.

‘I’m just going to go get those potions, then we can set you on your way back home alright?’ Jones said a smile on his face as he wedged the examination door open giving him a view out of the painfully white room, to an even whiter corridor.

Harry let his hands rub over his ribs as Jones left, the pain was extremely less than it had been – it still hurt like a bitch, but he no longer felt like he was going to double over which was good enough for him. From the sound of it his chest would be completely healed within the next two weeks, which was as good as he could ask for, it meant that he still had a month after in order to sort his shit out – he wasn’t daft, he knew he would have to resume his schooling in this era and likely study all summer be able to take his OWLS in order be allowed onto his course’s and then attend Hogwarts in order to get his NEWTS and ultimately a job – technically, he could live off of the Peverell wealth, it would supply him with more then was in anyway necessary for anyone. Yet, what if something went wrong? What if someone else with better claim of the lordship was to appear? It was unlikely, but Harry wasn’t about to risk it and end up a beggar.

‘LET GO OFF ME YOU FILTHY DEATH EATER! LET GO, LET GO, LET GO!’ a voice echoed through the hospital halls over the quite hustle of healers and patients, leading his eyes to snap to a figure being dragged past his door - confined by a white straight jacket, two rather buff healers dragging the figure along between them – the figure had crazy dark brown borderline black curls that spilled to his shoulders, practically black eyes and a wild beard.

‘Sirius’ Harry breathed, craning his head as he moved out of frame - yet as he moved to hop off the examination bed ignoring the throb it sent through his body, in order to see if it was really his godfather who just passed him, Healer Jones reappeared blocking his exit.

‘careful, your ribs may feel better, but you shouldn’t move so quickly’ he chastised moving to grasp Harry’s arm and move him back onto the bed.

‘who –‘ Harry questioned as he was guided back into sitting straining to hear the muffled yells of the guy who just passed the door – words like ‘death eater and phoenix’ making their way through, yet still becoming steadily quieter.

‘The guy in the straight jacket?'

Harry nodded looking upon the healer with wide green and attentive eyes.

' Just some guy who’s being transferred between wards after attacking a medi-wizard who attempted to calm him or something – claims to be a Black and spews out all this nonsense about people out to get him apparently, they say it’s paranoia, as well as delusions.’ Jones stated, dividing vials into different bags on the side.

‘Does the Black family know?’ Harry asked.

‘no course not, do you think the hospitals going to inform a wealthy pureblood family like Black about some delusional bloke that believes he’s the son of the seventeen-year-old heir?’ Jones said, chuckling lightly at the absurdity.

‘I guess not’ Harry said biting likely down on his bottom lip.

‘Hey Jones’ He asked gripping down on the medical sheets underneath him, tuning his knuckles white.

Jones hummed.

‘What did he say his full name was?’ he asked heart in his throat.

‘Sirius Black, I believe – why’ Jones asked, turning his eyes to meet Harry is for a second before they moved back to the healers’ task.

‘Just curious… he say anything else’ Harry said his heart in his throat as he clenched his hands tighter still.

‘well nothing more then garbage really. He talks about stuff regarding the moon and prongs continuously according to my colleagues... he says the phrase death eater a lot as well' Jones responded said with a scoff and it took all the power in Harry not show an averse reaction to the healers words. 'what even is a death eater suppose to refer to?’ Jones continued after a few silent seconds, shaking his head in dismissal.

‘merlin knows’ Harry responded absently, his voice cracking as he stared off looking at the now closed door in front of him.

**Author's Note:**

> bleh... see, did you really bother to read that.  
> If you did don't get cocky okay it's not like I didn't just trick you into wasting your time.  
> Okay honestly why the fuck you still reading this - the fuck is wrong with you... stop it... stop...  
> wow am I really going to have to stop writing for both of our sanities right now?  
> Though seriously read the end notes it may contain important things about updates and chapters.  
> Then again it may contain a bunch of garbage like this.  
> I guess we are playing Russian Roulette.  
> Also someone help me decide whether this fic is okay with a mature rating and not an explicit one because I'm stuck between the fact that I haven't made it too bad yet and the fact I have no boundaries and will full well explicitly drown someone in a lake out of annoyance and then cry about it later.


End file.
